Chapter 6
[T. N. Why Talik feel so uneasy with Draga and Illadriya
gallery/w0xVN9q]
***Talik***
Talik was sitting at his desk, looking at the map Illadrya had unfolded. The elfess herself was standing over his shoulder, leaning slightly over his ear. Talik felt some discomfort at having a beautiful woman standing beside him as he sat by himself, but he had to fight himself. His 'vassals' found this state of affairs quite natural and even honorable. Illadria at first tried to kneel in front of the table.
He could not see the almost palpable sparks between Illadria and Draga, standing on the other shoulder. She glared murderously at Illadria's profile as she touched the Prophet's shoulder, as if casually. The elfess herself ignored the creature of darkness with the magnificent condescension that only women can.
"You say there are only humans in the caravan. And they're armed only with cold steel?" Talik stretched out with puzzled doubt.
"That's right, Prophet. Swords, sabers, and crossbows are all the weapons observed. Also, I should note that the equipment on these men matches their weapons. Mail armor and brigandines, only five magic items were spotted, all on one person. No use of magic was seen. More than half of the caravan rides in tent wagons in the middle, and do not leave the cover."
"Yeah, well, if there were real weapons here, no one would have used any of this a long time ago," Talik said thoughtfully. "The Middle Ages, then. We're lucky, I guess."
"Please forgive your servant, I did not fully understand..."
"Never mind. You can't know these words. What can you say about their levels?"
"The level of people in the caravan ranges from first to tenth. The highest, apparently, is the leader - the twenty-seventh. He is also the owner of all detected magical items. Also, this person begins to show anxiety when scouts get too close."
"You mean the lowest rank?"
"Yes, level 30. Stalkers 70 and above stay back, just like you told me to."
"Hmm..." Talik leaned back in his chair and thought.
The levels were not impressive, to put it mildly. If there's any consistency with Yggdrassil's level system here, these guys are very, very weak. What are they even doing outside the walls of big cities? We had to make sure somehow, but the easiest way was to get confrontational. It's not very decent, attacking people just to find out how strong they are. Besides, if the local twenty-seven isn't identical to the usual level system, there could be some trouble.
He looked at the map again.
"All right, let's leave it as it is. What about the villages?" Talik pointed to the line of symbols on the map.
"The settlements are in a chain along the edge of the forest that surrounds our mountains. They are extremely poorly fortified with the usual wooden paling. The population is between a hundred and two. The level of inhabitants is no more than a sixth, very likely living off hunting, gathering, and primitive farming. Tools, clothing, and buildings... In general, it does not appear that these people are capable of producing swords and chainmail, Prophet."
"Curiouser and curiouser, yeah? Level 6, they're all so fucking risky. In the woods, you said there were beasts and monsters up to 20?"
"That's right, Prophet. There is reason to believe that this is not the limit. You did not specify to seek such a thing."
"Somehow this caravan with level 27 at its head and with weapons that the locals can't produce doesn't really fit in. Merchants? By the way, what's that notation mean?" Talik tapped the cross next to one of the villages on the map.
"This... All the inhabitants of this village have been killed, Prophet. It looks ruined, comparatively recently. This village is the reason I assumed the possible urgency with which you would want to know this news."
"Well, I'm sad to hear that a bunch of people were killed somewhere, but should that mean we have to rush out and save everyone? We don't know anything about the reasons for what happened, although your initiative pleases me. By the way, the movement of this caravan, is it directed toward this village, or away from it?"
"The caravan moves away from it."
"Oh."
Talik pondered. The hypothesis that it was a trade caravan, already not very plausible, was off the table. Reasonable businessmen would have left the dangerous area by now, no matter what era it was. That left two assumptions - either they were some kind of rescuers, or they were the bad guys. Both easily explained the passengers not leaving the wagons.
"How far is the caravan from the nearest village?"
"Apparently, they're going to leave it. They spent the night there."
"All right, let's leave it at that for now, the point is... How many of your people are in the area? Elves, sorry. How long will it take to gather them around that village where these guys go?"
"Seven, within ten minutes, can group at that point."
"Gather them there, and let them ... Just watch for now. If they... Start killing people, then have them intervene, make it look like a raid or something. Keep them from risking their lives, but take the attention to themselves if possible. No unnecessary deaths."
"I understand, Prophet. It will be done."
Talik thought again. On the one hand, he didn't want to interfere in other people's affairs. For now, he didn't know who had what kind of relationships in this world, and why they were the way they were. On the other hand, he could not sit here, in this office forever. And in some things, it is better to see everything and make conclusions in person, rather than rely on testimonies from creatures he had never even seen. Well, or saw, maybe, but never talked to. With NPCs in the game, there was usually no heart-to-heart talk.
Illadria, judging by her closed eyes and distant appearance, was communicating with her subordinates through [message]. Talik waited for her to finish.
"Illadria, how long does it take to get to the destroyed settlement?"
"About half an hour on the griffons,."
"The griffons..."
Talik chewed his lips. The Gryphons were a common flying transport, one of the services provided by the guild system. It was quite handy in the game because you could fly to the right point in the location. Stationary portals were much faster, but they had a fixed exit point that still had to be opened. He would definitely have to take a ride later.
"No, the griffons won't suit, it's too noticeable."
"Then only Lord Kazuchi-sama's flying carpets, or riding mounts, remain. In that case, the trip would take at least three hours. Would it be permissible to set up a two-way portal there?"
"I don't like portals, to be honest. No, no, that applies to all portals, not just yours." He hastened to reassure the pale elf. "I guess we don't have much choice... Well. Set up a portal from the General Chambers to the outer cemetery, and from there to this destroyed village. Prepare some of the toughest watchers you've got, they'll go too."
"Understood Prophet. I'll get right on it."
Illadria bowed deeply and swiftly strode out of the office. Talik tried not to stare at her back and down, but it wasn't going well. Finally, she stepped out and Talik was able to shift his gaze to Draga. Sure, Drega was not inferior to the elfess in terms of figure, but Talik had slept with her before and had to admit that that time had put all interest away. And when did he start to be so picky?
Drega stood at a standstill, gloomy as a storm cloud.
What is it, I wonder?
"Draga, I'm going to go to that village in person. And... I'm going to need someone to protect me in case there's an ambush. Is that alright with you?"
The Creature of Darkness knelt.
"Prophet, I will take all the hits of the world to protect you! I will justify your trust, I swear!"
"Um..." Talik felt embarrassed again. "Let's go then."
The oval of transition was already curling in General Chambers. Talik made an inviting gesture, and Draga stepped into the portal, and he followed.
The cemetery was virtually the same as the one in the game - a grim, solemn necropolis. Except that the weather was far more detailed and bleak than he was used to. Dusty snowdrifts and leaden clouds, coming so low you could seem to reach out with your hand, had certainly not been here before.
In the square of Necropolis, next to the exit from the portal to the palace, a denser spatial gap was already deployed. Next to it stood at a standstill, very much in the background of the necropolis, a light elf woman, and on the other side, Marius.
Yeah, well, you wouldn't have missed the activity on your floor, right.
"Happy to see you in my humble post, Prophet. Truly a wonderful surprise." The lich bowed low. Here he was, fitting in perfectly with the surroundings.
"And I'm glad to see you, Marius. I may need your help, and it's a good thing you appeared here on your own."
"How could I ignore your visit, Prophet, no, it is impossible! What use is your feeble-minded servant? Command me!"
Talik noticed that the lich was in some kind of high spirits. He had been so measured and judicious at the meeting.
"Ahem... I command you. Assemble the strongest undead unit you have at your disposal and can assemble right now. And wait here. I'm going to the outside world, and if I have to flee from there, you'll cover me."
"It will be done!" Solemnly proclaimed the lich, thrusting his index finger into the low sky.
The ground trembled and groaned, and a bluish, fluorescent mist fell from the crypts surrounding the square, instantly flooding the entire area. From this mist, several dozen translucent, ghostly riders with spears made of impenetrable blackness slid smoothly out. In the surrounding breeze, cloaks slowly fluttered as if woven from otherworldly flames.
The riders instantly surrounded the portal, and as the latter was getting into place, the air heaved heavily overhead, and an armored bone dragon landed en masse on the roof of Marius's mausoleum.
"My army is ready, Prophet. Give me a sign, and it will wipe your enemies to dust!" The lich proclaimed with a pathos that matched the setting, spreading his arms wide.
The Eighties, Talik noted. And a dragon of the ninetieth. It would be a pity if they were lost. They don't respawn automatically. He looked around at the undead warriors. The view was impressive. Such measures seemed a little excessive, but Marius was so radiant with joy and pride in his minions that Talik didn't dare tell him so.
He wonders how Marius is able to convey emotion if he has a bare skull instead of a face.
"Okay. Illadria, are the Stalkers there yet?"
"Yes, Prophet, they are waiting for your orders."
"Tell them to spread out around the village, and if they find a way out of sight of anything they haven't seen before, sound the alarm. Draga, go through the portal. As soon as you're in place, use [Aura of Absolute Hatred] and defend yourself."
"As you command!" She roared and disappeared into the portal.
"Illadria and Marius, wait here. I hope your help will not be needed."
He waited a few seconds. [Aura of Absolute Hatred] marks the user as target for all creatures and players within its range by default. It also caused enemies to launch an attack with their strongest skill. It took a very, very good reaction and a lot of experience to stop the attack before you dropped out of stealth.
If there were any high-ranking men sitting there in ambush, there's a good chance they'd reveal themselves. The silence in the square was broken only by a dragon on the roof, wiggling its bony wings restlessly. Talik waited for a moment, but Draga was not reporting anything. He glanced at Illadria, who was apparently undisturbed, indicating that nothing dangerous was going on. Or maybe it was a trick, he thought. Why didn't Draga say anything?
Because she can't [message]. I am such an idiot.
He activated magic.
"Draga, is everything okay in there?"
"There are no enemies here, Prophet." She reported cheerfully. "Only a few beasts attacked, but they're already dead."
"Then, I'm coming."
He sighed, concentrated, and entered the portal.
As soon as Talik passed through the teleporter, he felt so sick that he almost vomited. The stench was so bad it made his eyes water. He rested his palms on his knees and tried to steady his breathing, but it didn't help.
"Prophet, what's up with you?!" Draga's anxious voice sounded the ear.
Talik, holding his breath convulsively, held up his hand, letting her know he was okay.
The stench of decomposition and soot seemed to be felt with all his senses, not just his nose, but even his mouth, eyes, and ears, and it was foul pungent all over his body. He could feel echoes of a similar smell in the Marius cemetery, but they were totally incomparable things. Covering his face with his palms, Talik did not immediately remember that he could use spells. Rummaging through his memory, he remembered something that might work.
[area cleansing]
When he spoke the name of the spell (that's how magic worked, he found out), the murderous stench receded. Not completely gone, but gone beyond the edge of perception where it was a minor inconvenience. Talik breathed a sigh of relief and looked around.
And then I almost bent over again in a gagging spasm. The picture was horrifying. He was standing in a sort of square, with no pavement, just trampled earth and a collapsed well in the center. The square was surrounded by burnt-out ruins of houses, but that wasn't the point.
There were dead bodies everywhere. Bloated, blackened, mutilated, they were everywhere. On the palisades, nailed by the arms and ripped open. Crucified on the ground, legs spread wide, naked. Hanging from crooked stakes, mauled and nibbled by beasts. Death, in all its ugliness, grinned mockingly from everywhere, displaying its perverse forms.
Everything was so real it made him dizzy. Talik had never seen dead people in real life, and what he had seen since the transfer he was quite at ease with, treating it more like a decoration. Things were different here. Levels, skills, and other things that he was beginning to get used to as something natural, all shattered against the picture of the real death of real people.
With a shiver in his hands, Talik regretted coming here. As long as he'd just heard the reports, he'd somehow not paid much attention to the deaths of others. But now he saw what Illadria was talking about so calmly and mundanely. And it was really scary.
He realized that Draga was still holding him by the shoulder, looking into his eyes with genuine concern. He put his hands on her shoulders and rested his forehead against her armored chest.
"I'm fine. Don't worry, I'm fine. One moment."
The sensation of touching the cool metal partially restored his ability to think straight. He searched his memory again, looking for something appropriate.
[Iron Will]
Fear and disgust melted away at once, leaving only a heavy acceptance of what was happening. The effect of this simple skill in Yggdrasil gave protection against low-level mental debuffs. One of the initial skills of his primary 'monk' class
Talik felt something on his palms, looked at them, and was surprised to find blood and dirt. He looked at Draga, and realized what was wrong. She'd used her skill to shroud every living thing in her range, including dogs and crows. Their remains adorned the square in a generous scattering, but he hadn't paid attention to such little things in the beginning. Flies and other insects simply died from the wave of hatred the skill exuded.
"Let's take a look around. What happened here is clear enough, I want to imagine who did all this."
A look around the village didn't tell us much, but the overall picture was clear. There had been a real massacre here. Whether it was an act of terrorism or something else, he never understood. One good thing was that there were no dead children. Talik tried to apply [resurrection] to a few bodies, but to no avail, they just crumbled into dust.
"Basic resurrection is minus five levels, mine is minus four. I guess there's no level zero here, is there."
He could try a high-level spell that reduced the resurrection penalty, but it required either crystal or caster experience. Neither of which he was willing to spend right now. He could try to find someone with a life level higher than five, but there was no telling how long it would take. And what was there to talk about with someone who had lived through such a nightmare? What would he say if he were asked to bring everyone else back to life? Struggling with his conscience, Talik decided to leave it at that.
Examining one of the bodies, he found two short, thick arrows in it. He pulled one out of the body with a heavy heart and twisted it in his fingers, examining it from all sides.
There were crossbows in the game, and their projectiles looked very similar. He sent an arrow into his [inventory] (which he was instantly accustomed to on his first day here). He had some serious questions about this enigmatic caravan, and questions of ethics no longer bothered him.
[message]
"Illadria, where is this... 'caravan'?"
"The caravan left the village and moved on to the next one. There was no attack on the inhabitants, although there seems to have been an abuse of a local woman."
"Abuse... I don't want to know the details. Is she alive?"
"Yes, Prophet, but it seems that without outside intervention it won't last long."
"Stalkers have healing skills, am I remembering correctly?"
"Yes, Prophet, all stalkers have the ability to heal wounds, except the critical ones."
"Send one of them there, keep her alive without giving herself away. No great healings or anything. Just don't let them die."
"I will."
He did not know why he had told Illadria to do so. It wasn't very rational on the whole, but after today's experience, Talik was willing to take a risk and intervene.
"Also, Illadria, could you open a portal a few miles ahead on the course of the caravan?"
"Of course, Prophet."
"Very well. I'll talk to Warboss. He'll send his guys, you can work out the details with him later. And yes, just a moment. You say 'Prophet' a lot. It's embarrassing."
"I..." The elf's voice sounded confused. "But how can I, it's..."
"I believe in you, you can do it."
"I will do my best to fulfill your will, Pro... I'm sorry."
Interrupting [message], Talik thoughtfully stretched out aloud, stroking his chin with his finger.
"How to do all this..."
"Prophet, let me punish the bastards! Their deeds have marred your holy tranquility, I will personally send them to hell for it!" The hitherto silent Drega bowed before him.
"Oh, that's what I wanted to do at first. But that's not a good idea. Sending you there is like burning down a house to get rid of a cockroach. I want from those... people... too much to just go in there and kill them off."
Draga still looked upset, and he tried to comfort her.
"Draga, I really appreciate you willing to help me. But you're too valuable to me to go around killing faggots like that. I'll need you if there's a really serious threat, and then I believe you'll show yourself in all your glory. Okay?"
"Of course, Prophet. Forgive my undignified behavior..."
"It's okay. Let's go."
Heading back toward the portal, Talik used [message] again.
"Warboss, are you busy?"
"I will listen to you, Prophet."
"I want to find out what your boys can do in the new world. Your lowest level is 30 if I remember correctly?"
***Akuro***
Akuro was in the best mood he'd been in days. The night before, when he arrived in the village, he was of course going to have fun himself and let his boys have some fun. But he could not have guessed that things would work out so well. The rabble had a pretty girl with them, and she was the type of woman he hated. Self-confident, arrogant, unaware of her place. With the kind of backbone a woman shouldn't have. It was a great pleasure to watch her break down and surrender, accepting life as it was.
His warriors appreciated the gift and didn't get off the bitch until late-night, with a break for a drink. It's a wonder she didn't die under one of them. After using her, though, some dumbass came up with the idea of throwing her into a barn somewhere so she wouldn't look like an eyesore. It really wasn't much of a sight, and the leader didn't go ahead with the reprisal. Akuro was too squeamish to go and finish her off. He didn't like the stench of manure, and he didn't want to let his clothes and hair soak in it. She wasn't going to last long anyway.
The peasants (he had long regarded the inhabitants of the Green Line as his peasants) should be grateful to him. After all, it was because Akuro found such amusement for his warriors that their women did not have to take her place.
The adventurers frankly disappointed him. He had heard of the adventurers' valor and ingenuity, their combat experience, and other things. At first, he even chickened out a little when he found out who they were. Still, the locals might have made some sort of cutthroat hire to get rid of him. He had made it clear to them long ago that he was one of the hundred strongest swordsmen in the Theocracy. He wasn't called to the Scriptures just because of his controversial past, and even the fact that he was now a respected businessman didn't help against the dogmatic heads of the Church. He would have been all for it - after all, as a warrior, he had already reached a certain limit that could only be overcome in battle with a strong adversary. The Scriptures dealt, among other things, with the destruction of such targets. And besides - respect, honor, good material base, access to strong magical items, and other bonuses.
The idea of becoming an adventurer he had once regretfully rejected. The possibility of facing the strongest monsters beckoned. The hardships of camping, the prohibition of habitual things such as violence and robbery were bewildering. He was not accustomed to denying himself simple pleasures and obvious benefits. The thought that he would not have the right to take something he liked, or to meekly accept a woman's refusal, was unacceptable. Not to mention that no normal business could be done.
His thoughts came back to the adventurers. After all, what had they really forgotten there? He had expected a lot from them, but despite his disappointment, he was glad for the warm-up. And in the village, the misgivings had at least briefly subsided, but now they were back again.
"Commander." The hoarse voice of Scar, an old veteran and one of the men he really trusted, pulled him out of his thoughts. "Look."
Akuro looked ahead to where Scar was pointing. In the distance, on a gentle slope in the middle of the road, stood a man with a big axe. He looked as if he had been standing like that for some time, waiting for something.
"What the hell is this?" Akuro stretched his head in a flip-flop. "A noble vigilante or a stupid bandit? Well, well, well. We ride on, and when we come within shooting distance, slow the wagons down. All hands, get ready for battle, charge your crossbows, and keep your eyes open. Raise shields on the sides of the cages, watch the goods as if they were your own balls."
As he approached, Akuro got a good look at the man and became wary. It was clearly not human, but more like a cross between a goblin and an ogre. It was dark, dirty green, half a head taller than Akuro, shouldered, lumpy with muscles, with a small belly. Fangs the size of a finger protruded from his lower jaw, which was barely half his head. A bull's neck, small, tattered ears, prominent brow arches, and an almost total lack of forehead. From deep within the eye sockets, tiny, close-set piglet eyes drilled into the procession.
The strange monster stood in a relaxed pose, an axe on his shoulders. He was dressed in some kind of leather junk with rusted iron inserts, but the axe caught Akuro's eye. It was a work of art, not a weapon. Simple in form, but perfectly crafted from layered steel. Akuro realized that he would get this weapon at any price.
Akuro raised his hand, and the procession came to a halt. He himself, taking two of his closest companions with him, stepped forward. The monster, to his surprise, was a talkative one.
"Hey, shitheads, who are the toughest ones here?" The voice was in line, husky, low, and slightly mumbling. "I'll fight him."
Akuro almost laughed at the irony of the situation. Yes, the monster didn't look weak, but it was only half-human. And it dared to address the theocrats in such a tone?
"Scar, kill the bastard."
The old veteran nodded silently and trotted toward the relaxed monster. As he rode up and swung his saber, Akuro realized that the monster didn't just look weak. He wasn't.
The green creature, without changing its relaxed posture, swung the axe with barely perceptible speed straight from his shoulder. The blow was so powerful that Scar was literally knocked off his horse, which roared backward with a pissed-off roar. The rider, shredded from shoulder to chest, flew a few paces away, flopped down like an empty sack, and remained to lie there, only his limbs twitching.
"A weakling." The creature scratched its ass in frustration. "Not good."
Akuro felt fury with a touch of excitement. The blow showed the monster to be a very fast and strong opponent, and the weapon had no trouble penetrating the expensive armor. He signaled his second comrade-in-arms to retreat and dismounted from his horse, drawing his sword. The gods love irony - only this morning he regretted that there were no strong opponents. Now it was even worth it to apply combat skills.
[astute senses]
[accelerating reflexes]
[small strength]
His body was filled with a pleasant feel of power, and all his senses sharpened, making the world brighter and more detailed, as if he had removed the veil from his eyes and the plugs from his ears.
"Well, monster, you must realize that you have earned a very, very painful death. Who are you, what cave did you come out of?"
"I'm Jay-Gul, and you don't #$% where I come from. Are you strong? Let's fight."
"As you wish," Akuro growled.
The monster was no longer relaxed but remained exposed.
[double merciless stab], a move discovered personally by Akuro, his pride and trump card, did not pierce the insolent monster, though it did wound him. He jerked to the side in time, and Akuro's sword simply made two deep cuts in his side.
Akuro barely had time to jerk himself to the side, if it hadn't been for his enhanced reflexes, the punch would have hit him straight in the face. The next moment he had to tear his muscles to escape the axe blow.
Akuro was completely focused on defense. It would have been idiotic to block such blows with a sword, so all he was left to do was parry, dodging the attacks. The blows were artless and predictable, but they came with such speed and force that there was no time to counterattack. Several times he made counterattacks, first aiming at the face, and then anywhere, just to hurt, to inflict a wound. But his opponent paid no attention at all to the cuts and jabs from his sword, continuing his unrelenting onslaught.
The monster pushed him steadily to the side of the road, which Akuro was glad of - it was much harder to use such a long weapon between trees. And this was clearly not a case where any advantage could be neglected. Struggling to fight off the hurricane of blows, he felt the possibility of defeat for the first time in years. His sword hand ached from the effort, and his breathing gradually began to give up. If it weren't for the chainmail, he'd be dead by now - a few blows had slashed at him in passing. At best, it would just leave bruises.
The monster, on the other hand, didn't have any trouble. There was no sign of fatigue; on the contrary, there was the excitement of a cat chasing a rat. A big, dangerous rat, but a rat nonetheless.
Pure hatred burned in Akuro's heart. It was the kind of humiliation he could never even imagine. The subhuman, the living garbage, looked down on him. And worst of all, there was nothing he could do, no way to turn the fight in his favor. To order his men to fire crossbows at the monster was to waste precious moments, to lose breath and rhythm. A completely unacceptable risk with such an opponent. And with such a tempo of battle, there was an enormous risk of getting an arrow himself.
Where did this monster come from? He had never heard of such a species. A hybrid, a bastard of some creepy mesalliance? Where did such power come from, how could it be defeated? There was no idea, and Akuro could only defend himself by retreating to the trees.
But he seemed to understand the maneuver. The saving trunks were already a few paces away, and Akuro was already figuring out how to move among them so that the surroundings would interfere with the enemy as much as possible. But in deflecting, diverting aside another blow, he screwed up. He didn't notice that the axe wasn't flying at his head.
His right wrist became numb, and a sharp pain whipped through his arm. The sudden change in his body balance threw him off balance, and Akuro fell. He looked down at his hand and was horrified to see a bloody stump just above the joint. The sword had fallen in the grass a few paces away, out of reach. There was severe weakness, the effects of the skill had worn off, the blood draining through the wound in pulses.
The damned monster, playing with his axe, stood over Akuro, stepping on his chest with his foot. The body seemed monumental from below, obscuring the sun.
"So, that's all?" He spat noisily. "And so much talk was..."
He leaned down, grabbed Akuro by the collar with his free hand, and lifted him as easily as a paper doll. Seemingly utterly defeated, Akuro took his chance. He took the knife out of his boot with his remaining hand, and thrust it briefly, without a swing, under the freak's chin.
But the damn beast was vigilant enough to jerk its head away, and the blow missed, splitting the cheek. Akuro was surprised at how thick and hard the skin was. Blood ran cheerfully.
"Heh, close," the fanged face grinned.
Akuro was unable to make a second strike. The last thing Akuro remembered was a sledgehammer-like fist that knocked him unconscious.
The warriors, who believed in the invincibility of their brutal commander, turned pale in horror. The battle was hard to follow, and all they could see were the blurry flashes of blows. They had seen what their commander was capable of, how he could literally gut any enemy with playful ease. And now his senseless, bloody body was being dragged by his hair by the creepy goblin. Dragged to them. No one knew what to do, and even the commander's closest comrades-in-arms only glanced at each other nervously.
The goblin kept coming, and the men and horses kept backing up until they were against the wagons. Then the goblin lifted the commander's body, leaned forward, and yelled.
"I, JAY-GUL, HAVE WON! WHO ELSE WANTS TO FIGHT ME?!"
The answer was silence. No one wanted to die. The goblin cast his bloodshot eyes over the demoralized soldiers.
"ON YOUR KNEES!"
Everyone understood that this was not a claim that could be ignored. But kneeling before a lower being... no one dared to be the first. After a brief pause, the goblin hummed, tossed the commander's body forward, and put two fingers in his mouth, and blew a deafening whistle.
At the same moment, the forest seemed to explode. On either side of the road, two dozen of the same monsters burst out of the woods, howling and laughing. Only one man managed to raise his crossbow before he was blown away with an axe in his chest.
A wave of green swept through the disorderly ranks of warriors, and moments later the battle, before it had even begun, was over. The bloody dust settled quickly.
Jay-Gul watched in satisfaction as his gang, surprised at the all too easy victory, tied up their prisoners. The Boss had ordered them to be taken alive. They took almost all of them, and whoever died on the way, such is the battle. It was a novelty for him to do such useless nonsense as taking prisoners. He had fought in the Prophet's wars before the death of the old world, and that was worthwhile. Gambling, risk, and death, that's what orcs lived for - it was more than enough. Enemies were always strong, it was always a joy to fight them. Not such a disappointment. Only the leader was worth something, but if it weren't for a direct order to take him alive regardless of the circumstances, he would have been dead much sooner. The others - to spit and grind. Weak in body and spirit. Even to despise it is too much.
Warboss said that these bastards had pissed the Prophet off badly, and Jay-Gul couldn't understand how they'd managed to piss off the Creator. On the other hand, it was none of his business. His business was the Boss's orders, and he didn't give a damn about the details. The Boss and the Creator had big heads, let them think. They know best from above.
Heading toward the covered wagons in the middle of the caravan, Jay-Gul gave the overzealous fighters a cheerful slap.
"Easier '?; %, they're squishy. If you break them, the Boss will rip your balls off."
The Boss is such a person, he could. All orcs lived in a simple and clear hierarchy. The boys are those who are capable of holding an axe. Tough guys - those who distinguished themselves in battle, Jay-Gul was one of them. Tough guys led families or small gangs. The Nobs, the tribal leaders, were subordinate to the Boss. The Boss was subordinate to the Creator. Each rank looked down on the lower ranks. The Warboss looked down on all orcs. The Creator looked down on the whole world. In this utterly simple worldview, the promise to rip the balls off was not an empty threat, but a very concrete prediction for the future.
As he approached the covered wagons, covered from the side by boardshields, Jay-Gul sighed sadly. It's a pain in the ass. What does it mean to 'let them escape'? A punch in the face is always welcome, with pleasure, it's easy. He didn't have 'escape' in his pocket. But orders were orders.
He tore off the flimsy deck board and pulled aside the blood-splattered cloth. He uncovered a large cage, divided into many small cells. More than half of them were occupied by girls with leather shackles on their hands and feet. They squinted at the bright light, but then they could see Jay-Gul.
The girls huddled panically against the bars, screaming and shrieking in terror. J-Gul grimaced and pulled the cloth back.
"№?; %."
The screaming did not stop. He pulled the cloth aside again and barked.
"QUIET №?; %!"
His cry caused leaves to fly from the nearby trees. The inmates froze in shocked silence.
"It's better."
He estimated the best place to start, grasped the square bars, and pulled them apart with some effort. The bars bent reluctantly at first, and then came out of their sockets.
"Idiots and slackers. They couldn't make a proper cage. It's a shame."
He estimated that any of the prisoners would have no trouble getting out through the gap. There was one, a very young girl in this particular cell, with a stony expression and wide-open eyes. Jay-Gul stretched out his hand to grasp her but immediately yanked it away.
"Ouch, №?; %. What are you doing?" The girl, realizing she couldn't dodge, bit his finger. - That hurt, №?; %!".
"Don't touch me, you monster! You'll never take me alive!"
"Hey, chicken, №?; %! Calm down, I don't need you. No tits, no ass. Get out of here."
The girl ignored the order, continuing to huddle against the opposite wall.
"Well, stay there. Are you guys going to be done soon?" He looked around. The boys had already tied up all the enemies if you can call them that. "You, bandage that moron's hand, he might die. You, there's a sword lying around, wrap it up separately. The rest of you, dismantle the cages. Get rid of the girls, don't touch that one, she's a biter."
After issuing instructions, he staggered toward the second covered wagon, peeled back the boards, and growled just in case.
"Hey there, in the cages, if anyone squeaks now, I'll tie their mouths in socks. You got that?"
There was no answer. He pulled off the covers and found that yes, they got it. A dozen frightened eyes stared at him, but not a sound was made.
"That's it, yeah. Oh, boys, check it out, there's a man in a cage, hee-hee," Jay-Gul laughed. "?#% , it's embarrassing. Man, in a cage with chicks. I thought I'd seen a lot of shit. But, you know, live and learn."
A hoarse laugh rang out at the same time. To the orcs, the very idea of a man being shackled and caged was ridiculous. How was that possible? Why didn't he die in the fight? And also in the company of women.
"Hey, sucker, shake your panties, are you sure you've got balls?"
"Could he be a woman, too?"
"Ah, I've heard. Men who ?#% other men. I mean, like a man, but a woman."
"Humans."
The guy in the cage blushed thickly at this mockery and in a faltering voice began to make excuses.
"I am a prisoner, I was not allowed to fight!"
"Huh? Did you ask permission?"
"Oh, may I fight, please?" Somebody whispered in a thin bass voice.
"Boys, it's hilarious, we should tell the Boss about it."
"Enough, ?#% ," Jay-Gul commanded. "We've had enough fun, time is limited."
The boys regretfully stopped their amusement and proceeded to dismantle the cages. Jay-Gul stepped aside from the harness, pondering what to do with the horses. On the one hand, they are valuable animals. On the other, they'd have to be carried across the forest to the place the Sorceress Elf had designated. They could, but it would be a hassle. Hard to drag, hard to leave. The order was clear on that point. The Boss said to take everything they could carry. A horse can be carried, so it must be carried. How to make them kick less.
He heard someone sneaking up behind him and turned his head.
"Are you still there?"
The girl who bit his finger froze with her hand outstretched toward him.
"Why are you still here? Get out of here."
"Em... Are you really letting me go...?" the girl asked.
"You have the heart of an orc, but the mind of a goose. I told you to go away. Don't you understand ?#% ?
"I'm not an orc," she said indignantly.
"It's ?#% obvious, the orc would know what's what from the first time. What do you want from me? I'm busy!" The cuts on his face and side itches terribly, and this annoying child...
"Aren't you going to chase us afterward?"
"Who ?#% needs you?"
"Аm..." the stubborn child wouldn't let up. "Will you let the others go? The ones in the cages?"
"Take it."
"And also... And that man over there - he's one of them! He's their sorcerer! I saw him in the village..."
"Oops." He glanced in that direction. The wagons had been dismantled, only the bottoms and wheels were left, and the sucker was hunched around. "Boys! Hit that wimp in the head and tie him up, too! And blindfold him, he looks like a sorcerer! Yeah, you can do it with a sock."
He looked at the girl again.
"Any more surprises?"
"Аm... no..." she's lost all her earlier bravado. "Aren't you going to walk us home?"
"Maybe I should also run and get you a beer?"
"Please... It's a long walk to the village, what if animals attack us... You're so strong, you'd protect us..."
Jay-Gul facepalmed.
"Listen to me, you insolent child. Either you go home, or you come with us. But you're not going to like it, and nobody's going to let you go back. Go home. Nothing more dangerous than a mosquito on this road today. That's what the Boss said. Stop bothering me with stupid questions."
The girl suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist, her arms barely enough.
'Thank you, Uncle Jay-Gul! Will you come here again? If you do, come and visit, okay?"
"?#% ... Okay. Maybe I'll pass by. I'll put the notch over there. Shoo!"
The girl finally broke away from him and ran toward the group of former prisoners, huddled together fearfully. Jay-Gul looked around. His boys had not disgraced the looter's title; everything the caravan had been before had been disassembled, packed, and distributed in bales and sacks. The horses were stunned and tied up.
"All right, you lazybones, time to go home!"
The orc squad grabbed the bodies and the sacks on their shoulders and disappeared into the woods. Only a few puddles of blood almost soaked into the ground, and Akuro's severed fingers scattered across the grass reminded anyone of what had happened here.
***somewhere***
Seven figures in precious black robes stood at a pentagram. Only the candles in the corners of the star were the only thing that dispelled the darkness of the place.
"Master! Hear your slaves, there is important news!"
The darkness around became particularly thick, stirring with countless threads. A cold, commanding voice answered.
"Talk."
"My Master! The crystals you bestowed upon us have cracked! Somewhere magic of unprecedented power has been used. As you foretold, my Lord. But your faithful servants could not determine where..."
"Nor could you. The magic of Kings is far beyond anything you will ever comprehend. The time has come. You know what to do. Call up the agents. Give knowledge and strength to the minor cults. The Kings are strong but foolish, they must reveal themselves, one way or another. Find them. Don't disappoint me. I look forward to the news."